


Their Graveyard, Our Paradise

by Mishafer



Series: Saturating the Reibert tag with Actual Reibert Fics [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Sneaking Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishafer/pseuds/Mishafer
Summary: Bertholdt loves when Reiner is like this. When he takes him to special places where they can be alone. Like the rooftops at night. It's actually kind of romantic.





	Their Graveyard, Our Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely blown away by the reception Stifling got. That paired with my scarily intense love for these two has motivated me to do a little series of random fics for them.

~~~~This is Bertholdt’s Reiner. The man who wakes him with kisses to his neck because, _“Bertl, I can’t help it, I just have to touch you.”_ It’s chaste, nothing below the waist since they're not alone, but it merely takes a hand running across Bertholdt's forearm to make him shudder beneath their warm blankets.

He thinks he can fall back asleep to the melody of Reiner’s affection until a deep voice whispers, “I have an idea.”

His eyes flit open, meeting the dim outline of the blond’s face. “If it involves something that will defile the virgin ears around us again then—”

He lets out a laugh. “Nope. Get up.”

“Up?”

He sits and tugs Bertholdt up by his wrists. “What can I say? You got me too wired to sleep.”

He’s unsure what he intends, but Reiner can create something fun out of thin air. Intrigued, he follows him down the bunk’s ladder. After they dress into more appropriate casual clothes, he goes to fetch his boots, but Reiner says, “No, it’s funner without them.”

Now he’s worried. If Reiner’s been hiding a foot fetish...

The concern must be plastered on his face because he then adds, “It’s easier to climb this thing barefoot.”

“Climb?”

“Just come on.”

They tiptoe outside into the temperate night air and listen for the guards. Years of grueling military training or not, this is still a camp full of teenagers.

 _”The second worst beast after titans,”_ barked a teacher one day.

The quiet is thick enough that Bertholdt hears Reiner’s steady breathing just beyond his shoulder. His fingertips rest lightly between his friend's shoulder blades as they listen for nearby guards.

“Now,” Reiner says in a voice that almost makes it seem like mission instead of a late night outing.

They skulk past a few buildings, Bertholdt frowning at the way the sand and gravel grinds against his bare feet. He’s always been tender-footed. “Couldn’t we have just taken our shoes off when we got there?”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun without protection.” He pauses. “That wasn’t a double entendre in my head.” Bertholdt breathes out a faint chuckle. If he laughs any harder, the blond might realize he often finds him hilarious. That would only encourage his bad jokes and be detrimental for the whole camp.

They turn the corner to the back of the admissions office. Several dislodged boards jut out from the building just far enough for climbing. Indeed, barefoot proves easier as they scale the side, toes latching onto the small surfaces better than the end of a boot would. Reiner reaches the roof and holds out his hand for Bertholdt. He resents how far he extends it—he knows how to climb. But the giddy look in his friend’s eyes erases his discontent and he takes his hand.

“See? Isn’t this great?” Reiner says, urging him to a spot shadowed by a nearby building. “I overheard Ymir and Krista talking and they said no one can see you up here if you’re in this shadow.” He sits down and pats the area to his right.

Bertholdt settles beside him and bends his legs toward his chest. “It’s nice.” Bertholdt’s Reiner found them similar places to be alone as children too. Little hideaways no grueling training or warrior speak could touch. A hollowed willow tree had been their favorite. He wonders if that tree is still there and if they could both fit inside anymore. "Reiner, I'm this close to accusing you of being romantic."

He scoffs. “Promise never to tell anyone.”

“Promise." He takes a deep, satisfying breath. Crickets chirp a soothing rhythm in the distance of the darkened camp. “You know, once we get home, we can do things like this all the time.”

Reiner’s expression warms. “Yeah.”

Now Bertholdt wants to apologize for resenting how far Reiner held out his hand—even though he has no clue the action bothered him.

 _”Sorry I was thinking angrily at you,"_   would be an odd apology, so he shrugs it off.

“You know what else?” Reiner adds with a twinkle in his eye. “With everything taken care of for us, we can live out the rest of our days in actual comfort. I’m rooting for chubby Bertholdt.”

His grip around his knees tighten. “Chubby Bertholdt?”

“Oh come on, it’d be adorable.”

“Something like chubby Eren or chubby Connie would be adorable—I’m too tall to be cute if I got that way. Chubby Bertholdt would be… unpleasant.”

“He’d be precious.”

He lets out an indignant huff. “Why would it just happen to me? You won’t need to be so fit anymore.”

He folds his arms. “Define ‘need.’ Besides, you like it.”

His cheeks warm. “Uh.”

“Aw, don’t play coy.” He takes Bertholdt’s hand and smooths it across his bicep. “You like it.”

He does. A lot. So much. Intensely. And he hopes that doesn’t make him superficial. Reiner—although he denies it—is already so damn vain. It’s made worse by the envy over his physique from other male cadets. Though the leers from girls are worse. Bertholdt can’t say it doesn’t bother him, but he knows it’s harmless. They have the right to ogle and it never goes any farther. Besides, what’s Reiner supposed to do? Tell Mina to stop drooling because Bertholdt is across the room pretending to focus on lifting while actually biting a raw ulcer into his cheek? Of course not.

Bertholdt’s heart thumps as Reiner guides his hand over the firmness of his chest. “What’s gotten into you?” he teases. “You’re being more insufferable than usual.”

“Define ‘insufferable,’” Reiner replies, keeping his gaze on their hands.

His fingers press down on the taut muscles of the blond's abdomen. “Stop asking me to define things.”

“Stop playing coy.” He plants a kiss on his neck and goosebumps spread across his skin.

Bertholdt crosses his legs and Reiner brushes a hand across his groin. A pulse of blood rushes south and he says, “Uh, we’re um, on a roof.”

He stops. “Oh yeah. A little too public?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna get down?”

“No, I like it up here.”

“Alrighty then.” He lies across Bertholdt’s lap, hooking a hand around a knee.

Another beat of heat moves south, Bertholdt recalling the last time Reiner's head was there. “Ah… that’s not helping.”

“Think of that glimpse we caught of Shadis stepping out of the shower. ‘Oh, that’s where the hair from his head went.’ Still couldn’t cover the _dangling_ though.”

The memory sends ice to his loins.

They quiet and Bertholdt runs his fingers through Reiner’s fair hair. He loves when he lets himself be held.

_I can protect you too. If you’d just let me._

He wishes he had the courage such things aloud. “I love you,” slips from his lips as easily as he breathes, but the things he’s dying to say catch in his throat.

_“I don’t need protecting as much as you think.”_

_“I’m okay doing this myself.”_

_“I wish we didn’t have to kill all these people.”_

_“They’re not an evil race, we were lied to. You know that too now. I think out of the three of us it hurts you the most because you really believed in our mission. Talk to me about it?”_

Bertholdt feels there’s something so inhumanly cruel about tricking people into thinking they’re your allies. Breaching the wall and dooming thousands to a violent death is clear-cut cruelty. Horrible, but its violence is not one that takes years of twisted emotional manipulation to complete. In a way, their deception of their fellow cadets is worse. He can take tiny solace knowing he never personally forced anyone between a titan’s jaws, but he personally hurts everyone here each day.

When the mission is over and he’s home, doing this same thing, Reiner resting in his arms, he’ll still think of them. Eren’s intensity, Mikasa’s resolve, Armin’s quick wits, Jean’s cockiness... After all, their names come up during his and Reiner’s private conversation. _“Franz is pouting today,”_ or _“Sasha’s getting great at long range.”_ Just as they have here, speaking casually of Eren and Connie, and the unpleasant sight of their commander.

Bertholdt wishes Marley would invent some magical memory-wiping serum for shifters. He wants to forget their faces and their voices. He wants to only remember moments like this with Reiner—the sole reason he’s able to keep himself together. Home is a dreamlike memory but Reiner reminds him every day that it still exists. Annie chooses to distance herself instead. An understandable tactic, but one unthinkable for him.

_Please never leave me, Reiner._

Bertholdt shivers, looking across the still camp. A piece of civilization doomed to become a graveyard while they steal these moments for themselves as a temporary paradise.

“Reiner?” he says after a while.

“Mm-hm?”

“Do you ever…” He gnaws on an unhealed ulcer in his mouth. “Wish things were different?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?

“You can guess. Probably the same as you, but you know how lamenting about it ends.”

“Yeah.”

He sits up and places a hand on Bertholdt’s cheek. “Hey, look at me. Every day is one day closer to all this being over.”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against his. A glow overcomes his body and he basks in the feeling.

_My Reiner._

“It's almost another one of those days closer actually,” Reiner says, inching back and looking at the brightening sky.

“We’ve been up here for that long?”

“Guess so. Should probably take off.”

Bertholdt hums in discontent and buries his face in the crook of Reiner's neck. "Not yet."

"Yes 'yet,'" he counters, a smile in his voice. "Come on."

He lifts his head and realizes his eyes _are_ getting heavy.

Reiner gets up and hurries down the building with Bertholdt in tow. Reiner grips his friend's waist as he descends—he doesn't resent it this time. Again, he wants his shoes as his feet skate across the ground.

“Braun! Hoover!” a harsh voice calls from behind them and they freeze. They turn to see their newest instructor barreling toward them. Mister Hallow, a stout man with a permanent frown. “Please, do explain why you are out and about at 0600 hours.”

“Just taking a walk,” Reiner replies with a shrug.

Hallow raises a skeptical and bushy eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You know what? Both of you, namely _you_ —” He gestures to Bertholdt, making him go rigid, “I have been onto ever since I signed up here. Something off here.”

Bertholdt knows he’s just being an overbearing adult, but he can’t shake the fear shooting through his veins.

“I appreciate your suspicion on account of everyone else’s safety," Reiner begins, "but I assure you all we were doing was curbing our insomnia and having a nice walk. But we apologize, it won’t happen again, sir.”

"Oh, you and your politeness and 'sir' this and 'sir' that. Cut the crap."

“Okay, I admit was being a little handsy with him but we cut it out.”

_Reiner…_

“I don’t care about that. I care about juvenile delinquents doing who knows what early in the morning.”

Reiner continues to plead their case, remaining calm and collected as always.

Bertholdt keeps chewing at that ulcer, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. “Instructors aren't supposed to hound cadets like this," he blurts out. "Not without proof that they've done something wrong.”

“That may be," Hallow starts, "but one of these days you’re going to make a colossal mistake.”

_He just has to use that word._

The guard points toward their quarters. “Goodnight.”

They start back, Reiner giving a wave, and Bertholdt releases the breath he didn't know he held. Once they’re out of hearing distance Reiner murmurs, “Great save. And he’s just being an asshole to be an asshole. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Yeah. I know, it’s just… why’s he more suspicious of _me_?”

“Because you’re so unassuming.”

“That’s the point.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well—”

“What am I supposed to do now? Act up a little to make myself seem more normal?"

He stops in his tracks. “You don’t do anything. One guy here thinking you’re a teenage vandal is nothing to worry about. It’s fine.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right." He wipes his forehead with his sleeve and a smile tugs at his lips. "I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your input would of course be lots of awesome.
> 
> And I [tumbl](https://thecolossustitan.tumblr.com).


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